You Had Him
by cranberieee
Summary: Sometimes actions aren't enough- they could be misinterpreted, they could fail you. Words, on the other hand, could be the most reassuring things ever.


"I'm leaving."

The words reverberated through the room and as the sound hits the Russian's ears, he winced. Ivan stood up and locked gazes with the battered, scrawny shell of the once great Prussian Empire. There was no emotion in those red eyes; they were glossed over with a certain stoical numbness that took a lot of discipline to muster. Ivan mused at the thought of Gilbert Beilschimdt as anything but disciplined these days.

"And where would you be going, comrade?"

He cooed mockingly. The Russian noted that his voice wasn't as threatening as it used to be but he cast this thought aside as he was lucky enough that there was no hoarse cracking or stuttering. He was getting weak. He knew it, he could feel it but he tried not to let it show especially in his speech which was hard as just opening his mouth felt like a chore.

"Home."

The red-eyed one said with much conviction. Ivan was amused at the Prussian's confidence. Where was he getting it? Was it from his little brother or did the albino find out about the growing chaos in East Germany? Probably the latter, Ivan assumed as Gilbert could probably feel the soviet power weaken in his body too.

"Ah, but where is your home, Prussia?"

He mocked again. He hoped he hit a vein, he hoped he would get that smug phlegmatic look off of Gilbert's face, he hoped Gilbert would stay- even if he stayed just to quarrel with the Russian one last time. They were like that. Their infamous fights would end in clothes tearing apart and enamoured nights. It was disgusting yet enchanting at the same time.

The Prussian simply scoffed in reply. Determined stance not failing and all seriousness intact, what did Ivan expect of the Black Eagle of the North? Purple-eyes twitched involuntarily as his mind wandered back to the younger centuries when warfare was a whole different game and Prussia was a name one did not want to be involved with.

Footsteps resounded this time, Gilbert making a turn for the door. The Prussian did not make a run for it though, no, he merely walked (or more like limped) as dignified as he managed. Ivan took a few cautious steps towards the other nation as his heartstrings were inevitably pulled at whenever the albino inched further and further away. It was like he was the shorter man's shadow; the Russian was quietly following the other until Gilbert put a hand on the doorknob.

"There's nothing left for you there, stay here."

Ivan said with a hint of emotion that he desperately wanted to conceal, these thoughts that would burst if he daresay one word of it. So he wouldn't. He reached out and placed a firm gloved hand on the albino's shoulder. Ivan gave it a firm squeeze and felt the enfeeble bones of the telltale great Prussian. He didn't need to summon a great amount of strength to get the other to face him. Once face-to-face, the Russian looked almost longingly into tinted red-eyes. Almost being a the word.

"Will you stay?"

He felt that crack of pining for the Prussian as his voice grew hoarse. His palms were sweating more profusely within the gloves that Ivan was glad he was wearing. The Russian also swore he saw a moment of weakness in the red-eyes that promised nothing but a fight.

"Why?"

It came across as a rhetorical question to Ivan though it wasn't. Gilbert wanted to hear the reasons to why he should stay. He wanted Ivan to give him reasons to stay here. With him. He wanted Ivan to tell him that though he was worth nothing as a nation that he was still good enough to stay. The albino sighed as no answer came and he shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. Gilbert turned once more only to be pulled into an embrace.

"Please stay."

The whisper created a heavy atmosphere between the two. They both stood in the fragile silence and neither one made no hasty moves. Ivan rested his head on Gilbert's shoulder and he suddenly felt so helpless. So lost of power that he just wanted to take both of them away to a sunflower field somewhere happy.

Gilbert wagged his head in disappointment. He just needed some reassurance; he needed someone to tell him that he was still needed, still important, still loved. The Prussian knew that he could never have that here. He let out a faint chuckle as he removed Ivan's arms from around him and turned to face the other for the third time this encounter. Red-eyes laced with liquid emotion and a smile upon his thinning face.

"Nyet. Not this time, fucking commie."

Ivan kissed him. Willing the Prussian to stay by his side, trying to convey to him the things that he wanted to say but couldn't. The Russian cupped the other's face and stroked loving circles on his cheeks. He pulled away and looked Prussia right in the face with newfound promise to make him stay.

Suddenly, Gilbert felt incredibly used. The false hopes that he somehow implanted in his mind just burst into flames of hatred. He needed to get out. The albino needed to escape this ensnarement that he had carelessly fallen into. He looked at the Russian and felt nothing but disgust. Disgust that flowed through his body and made him loathe his awesome self to some extent.

"If you always think giving me that look and kissing me then hammering me down in bed will make me fucking stay. No, thank you! I just needed one little thing for you to convince me but you didn't so it's aufwiedersehen, arschloch."

With that shout, the Prussian had stormed out of arm's reach.

Ivan crumpled on the floor. He didn't cry. He just stared at the open door and onto the hallway. The Russian would not chase him- he had no more strength to although he wanted to, so badly. Purple-eyes scanned the room and its emptiness one more time before they closed.

He had him.

He had him right there and he let him slip right through his fingers. Now, Ivan will be asking himself what did he do wrong and why couldn't he get the Prussian to stay.


End file.
